


I remember always

by brickmaster



Series: Slice of Clack Event [2]
Category: Compilation of Final Fantasy VII, Crisis Core: Final Fantasy VII, Final Fantasy VII Remake (Video Game 2020)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Birthday, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, Family Bonding, Hand Feeding, Kissing, M/M, Meet the Family, Returning Home, Romance, Zack Fair Lives
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-09
Updated: 2020-07-09
Packaged: 2021-03-05 01:33:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,186
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25166260
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brickmaster/pseuds/brickmaster
Summary: The nights are filled with bright laughter, easy conversation, and meals that warm Cloud from the inside out. It’s the closest he’s ever felt to being back in Nibelheim.Zack’s homecoming feels like Cloud’s, too.
Relationships: Zack Fair/Cloud Strife
Series: Slice of Clack Event [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1809385
Comments: 15
Kudos: 116
Collections: Slice of Clack: July 2020





	I remember always

**Author's Note:**

> Slice of Clack—Week 2: Celebration.
> 
> This isn't truly a follow up to part one but if you would like to read it that way please do. I chose the prompt "birthday" and managed to write a fic that doesn't use the phrase "happy birthday" even once lmao. I hope you enjoy!
> 
> Please check out all the other amazing work for the event here: [@SliceOfClack](https://twitter.com/SliceofClack)

“Do you remember anything about the last time we were here?” Zack says, slinging a large duffel bag off the back of his bike and onto his shoulder. 

Cloud looks past him at the small, pale brick house a short walk away. There’s a decent tract of farmland adjacent to the property while the home itself is nearly enveloped by towering palm trees and lush ferns. There are several arched windows cracked open for the scant breeze and a number of them are partially covered by a vine curling onto the roof, it’s furled purple flowers bright against the shingles. 

This is Zack’s childhood home; he only knows it is because he was told. 

“No,” Cloud sighs, frustrated, and picks up his own duffel and starts down the dirt path. Zack catches the end of Cloud’s bag strap and pulls him to a halt. 

“Hey, we expected that didn’t we? It’s not your fault, Cloud,” Zack says warmly and gives a little tug on the bag as his smile grows crooked. “Besides, you _already_ won their hearts.”

Cloud ducks his head with a loud huff and resumes down the path, ears pink at Zack’s pleased chuckle. 

Zack easily falls into step beside him, their free arms brushing once before he takes Cloud’s hand in his. The dirt crunches beneath their boots and Cloud laces his trembling fingers through Zack’s. They step onto the straw mat at the foot of the front door and Zack knocks against the weathered wood.

His hand is almost uncomfortably warm around Cloud’s, Gongaga’s perpetual heat slicking him with sweat, but the soothing slide of Zack’s thumb across his skin is worth any discomfort. 

The door clicks, swinging open to reveal two people who erupt into a burst of noise at the sight of them. Zack’s mother is _big_ —thick shoulders and toned arms—and she’s nearly as tall as her son. She has a mess of thick, black hair piled on top of her head and her eyes are dark and crinkle charmingly when she smiles. Zack’s father is a slight man, much closer to Cloud in height surprisingly, but he exudes the same boisterous enthusiasm as his son. His hair—thin, dark, and heavily peppered with gray—is pushed off his deeply lined forehead and his thick, unkempt eyebrows fall gently over deep blue eyes. 

Cloud releases Zack’s hand and watches him get swallowed up in their embrace. 

“There’s our birthday boy!” Zack’s parents shout in unison, winding more tightly around their son with every passing second. 

“Jeez, not for a few days you guys!” Zack’s laughing breathlessly as he leans up and down to give a kiss to his mother and father’s cheeks respectively. He then turns and stands between them, an arm slung around their shoulders. The small entryway is humming with their energy and Zack’s smile is blinding when he looks at Cloud. “This is my ma, Tal, and my pa, Dara.”

Tal breaks away first and clasps Cloud’s hand firmly in hers; they are rough—no doubt from farming—and her smile is a reflection of her son’s. 

“Cloud, we are _so happy_ to see you again.” Tal’s voice is scratchy, thick with the building wetness in her eyes. His eyes flick to Dara and he sees the same shine. Cloud swallows roughly, chest tight at being held in their memory when he’s no better than a stranger. His hand is trembling again but before he can fret too much about it he’s being pulled into Tal’s tight embrace. Her linen shirt is rough on his cheek but he leans just slightly into the hold anyway and catches the faintest scent of cloves. 

“It’s an honor to meet you—uh—a-again, ma’am.”

Tal pulls back and lays a palm over her heart, her other hand is a warm weight on his shoulder, “Oh my, such a gentleman.”

“He sure is,” Zack says, cheeks rosy, and a shy smile blooms on his face as he looks between Cloud and Tal. Cloud’s breath catches, the tips of his ears heating. 

Dara pointedly clears his throat and squeezes past Zack with a cheeky grin. He pulls Cloud into a much more delicate hug than his wife. 

“Good to have you back, kiddo,” Dara murmurs, voice laced with an earnest joy that seeps to Cloud’s very bones. He hesitantly returns the hug, biting his cheek when Dara squeezes him even more firmly.. 

Cloud startles at the touch against his back and pulls away as Zack slides his hand beneath the strap on Cloud’s shoulder and takes away the duffel bag. 

“C’mon, let’s get settled.” 

Cloud follows Zack down a hallway which bisects the kitchen and living room and into a neatly kept bedroom. Zack drops their bags onto the twin bed pushed up against the right wall, completely ignoring the other bed on the opposite side of the room. Posters of bands and movies and all sorts are tacked up haphazardly all over the walls—very few he recognizes—and there’s a window cracked open above the nightstand next to Zack’s bed. 

Cloud notices Zack shuffling from foot to foot, arms crossing then dropping to his sides. This repeats a few times. Cloud bites his cheek against the grin that wants to break out. 

“Zack… am I the first person you’ve brought home?”

Zack huffs out, scratches the back of his neck. “If we wanna get technical, I’ve brought you home _twice_ now.”

Cloud loses the fight, a smile blooming across his face as he steps up to Zack and cups his jaw. He lowers his voice so Zack’s parents won’t hear and because he likes the way Zack’s attention drifts to his mouth. “We’re not going to use the other bed are we?”

Zack’s wrapping his arms around Cloud’s waist before he can even finish the question, their lips brushing. 

“Nope.”

~+~

The days leading up to Zack’s birthday are filled with touring his adolescent haunts: hand in hand, they walk across the covered bridge leading out of town and trace over the initials Zack had carved before departing for Midgar; they sit at the end of a dilapidated dock in the marshlands surrounding the Fair home, bare feet skimming the water as they talk; Dara eagerly recounts Zack’s childhood foibles while Tal hands picture after picture to Cloud, Zack burying his burning face in his hands with a groan; they spend their mornings in Zack’s narrow twin bed, sprawled on top of one another and tucking whispers and kisses into sleep warm skin.

The nights are filled with bright laughter, easy conversation, and meals that warm Cloud from the inside out. It’s the closest he’s ever felt to being back in Nibelheim. 

Zack’s homecoming feels like Cloud’s, too.

~+~

It’s _very_ late. Dinner spanned several hours—filled with good food and even better stories—and Cloud is helping wash up in the kitchen before they all turn in. The kitchen is one of the larger rooms in the house. There’s a wall lined with cupboards and a washbasin opposite a wall of windows that look out into the garden, a pantry, and a woodfire stove. There’s an intricately carved clock near the doorway that Cloud is keeping an eye on. It’s a quarter to midnight.

He can hear Zack and Tala talking over his scrubbing and Dara is shuffling around behind him. His ministrations come to a halt when Dara nudges his arm and slides a square pan onto the counter. 

“Gongagan pound cake—Zack’s _favorite_ ,” Dara whispers, sliding some worn oven mitts off. “Can you lend a hand? Besides that SOLDIER hearing of course.”

Cloud nods and wordlessly takes the knife handed to him. He works quietly, splitting his attention between cutting the cake into even sections and keeping attuned to the conversation in the other room. 

The side of Cloud’s face grows warm with the weight of Dara’s gaze and he feels a thread of anxiety in his belly. Zack’s endless praise for Gongagan pound cake is one of the few memories Cloud’s retained from his cadet days. He hopes he didn’t mess this up. He wants this to be good for Zack like he deserves. 

He sets the knife down and turns to meet him fully. “Sir?”

Dara gently deposits a plate and a small candle onto the counter before clasping Cloud’s hands in his. “You love our Zack?”

Cloud blinks, surprised, but he answers without hesitation, “Yes.”

“We could see that from the moment we opened the door,” Dara smiles, eyes bright. “Zack’s letters home were so full of _you_ that by the time he came to us for shelter we never had any doubt. Zack trusted you with us and trusted us with you. Thank you for looking after him, for bringing him home again.” 

There’s movement in the other room, floorboards creaking sharply, and Dara gives his hands a quick squeeze. He plates a piece of cake—fluffy and thick, golden and still warm—and tops it with the candle before handing it over to Cloud.

“I wasn’t finished washing—“ 

“Oh hush—you’ve been a great help to this old man, more than you’ll ever know,” Dara says, voice thick with emotion, and takes Cloud by the shoulders and guides him to the kitchen door. Tal is waiting on the other side with a little grin. She kisses Cloud’s cheek, pats his shoulder, and moves past him into the kitchen. 

There’s a burning in Cloud’s throat, so many things he wants to say but can’t find the words for, and he turns back to the doorway and catches Tal and Dara’s attention. 

“Thank you for trusting me with Zack,” Cloud’s says firmly, a thank you and a promise, and heads towards Zack’s room before they can respond. 

The hall is dimly lit and his steps are careful against the aged floorboards. There’s no light beneath the closed bedroom door but it’s not exactly _needed_ with their enhanced eyesight. One of the few perks of being mako-enhanced he supposes. With a deep breath, he casts a controlled fira on the candle and it sputters to life as he opens the door.

Zack is sitting against the headboard, legs a lazy sprawl across the thin sheets, and his eyes widen as Cloud steps into the room fully and closes the door behind him. Cloud starts to hum a Nibel song for birthdays—his mother hummed it to him too—and he cradles the plate close in the hopes the candle won’t flicker out. Zack pulls his feet up and Cloud settles down in the space across from him. 

The tiny flame casts soft shadows across their faces as they watch each other, Cloud’s humming coming to a close. 

“Are you going to make a wish?” It’s barely a whisper but Cloud’s unwilling to break this silence more than he has to. 

Zack’s face is achingly soft as he leans in and cups Cloud’s hands with his own on either side of the plate. He blows out the flame, eyes closed and face lax. 

The room is only slightly darker without the flame and Cloud can easily see the glow of mako as Zack’s eyes flutter open. Zack pulls the candle out and tears off a piece of the cake, holds it up to Cloud’s lips and watches expectantly. Cloud huffs and takes the first bite; the cake is buttery and dense, vanilla and sugar against his tongue. 

Zack’s thumb briefly brushes against his bottom lip before retreating to collect a piece of cake for himself. He chews slowly, clearly savoring every second, and Cloud’s heart feels near to bursting at the simple pleasure on his face. 

“What did you wish for?” 

Zack smiles slowly, his eyes open and drift down to Cloud’s lips. He leans forward and takes the plate from Cloud’s hands only to deposit it onto the nightstand. He shifts closer, their legs pressed against each other on the narrow bed. Cloud can almost taste the sweetness on his breath as Zack nudges his nose against Cloud’s. 

“More of this,” Zack’s hands, battle scarred and rough, cup Cloud’s tenderly. “I just want more of this with you.”

Cloud sucks in a small breath and pushes Zack softly back into the headboard. Zack goes willingly, trustingly, and melts against the bed when Cloud tucks himself against his side. Cloud reaches over and grabs the plate once more, sets it on Zack’s lap—ignoring the little laugh it earns him, the kiss to his hair—and tears off a piece. He holds it up to Zack’s mouth and feels his face flush at the beatific smile he gets, the arm around his waist that pulls him closer. Zack takes the piece, lips brushing against Cloud’s fingertips. 

He watches the contentment wash over Zack, belly fluttering over his part in it’s creation. He leans up and kisses him, coats his mouth with another dash of sweetness. 

They’re tangled even more tightly than before when they pull back and Cloud tucks his head under Zack’s chin, splays his hand across his heart. 

“I want more of this, too.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading!
> 
> My twitter: [@brickmaster_p](https://twitter.com/brickmaster_p)


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